By Request: One Girl's Take...

My 5 year old doesn’t fully get it yet – but she heard the same story early this morning.

If the writers don’t front page this, they don’t deserve their lives.

My wife made nachos, hot dogs, popcorn and some other ballpark foods to make it feel like we were at the game for the kids. We let the 12 year old daughter stay up and watch, however she fell asleep in the bottom of the 7th on the floor, after the family talked about the fun moments of the season, both watched on TV and in person. Right before she fell asleep, hearing me bemoan the impending end of the baseball season, she says “it’s not over yet Dad, until they get the last out”.

She woke when she heard my wife and I cheer at the result of the O’s final, missing most of the heroics, but just in time to see Longo’s walkoff. She cheered for a minute, stood up, gave me a hug, and said “See Dad, told ya”, and went to bed.

I just read Joe Posnanski’s recap piece right before this. Two extremely well-written articles. That child-like joy, and how someone can love a ‘game’ is something those who don’t watch or enjoy sports will never get.

I had to work 4-midnight Wednesday. But I was determined not to miss the game. I had MLB.tv for my cell phone and I felt like Lou Brown in Major League II bringing in a little radio to the hospital when the doc’s wouldn’t let him watch the game. When the game turned south immediately, I was disappointed but still thankful for another 90 win season. To play in this division, and have our 4th consecutive winning season, is just incredible. That was something to hang your hat on, no matter what else happened. I appreciated the wild ride of September, of still making these games matter.

I paid attention as much as I could while at work, including taking a few too many “bathroom breaks.” And I was torn between reality and dream. The odds of any team coming back 7-0 at any point in a game was improbable. To do it in the final 2 innings is just impossible. I wasn’t able to watch the 8th inning, and when I was able to sneak a look, next thing I know it’s 7-6. Are you kidding me? This can’t really be happening, can it? As soon as Dan Johnson came to the plate, I recalled all of those wonderful moments from 2008. On the brink of losing the division, this guy just about gets out of a cab, grabs a bat, and makes a story he can tell his grandchildren for years to come. One that we too will share with ours. 2008 made him a mandatory footnote for years to come. 2011 made him a legend. No one should ever share stories about the Rays without including Dan Johnson. Seemingly insignificant, and yet entrenched in Rays history forever.

I hate working on my birthday. I had so much going on that day between a school presentation and work, that it became like another day. And as you get older, typically that’s what happens. I remember as a child, your birthday was THE day. I mean, it was your day to enjoy. You could pretty much do whatever you wanted. This year, the Rays gave me my birthday back. My co-worker who is not a baseball fan, watched the final few innings amazed at all the action, and amazed at my reaction.

Baseball is not just a game. Baseball is a connection. It’s what can allow strangers to spend hours of their day blogging with other strangers. It’s how friends stay in contact despite being states apart. It’s how families share memories. I lost my father to cancer when I was 21. Some of my best memories come from going to games with him, and sitting and watching the DEVIL Rays play. He loved watching Lou “give ’em hell.” If only he could have seen what has happened in the last few years. But it doesn’t matter because I already know what his reaction would have been. It would have been something like mine.

Whether the Rays win or not anymore this year, what happened Wednesday night can never be taken away from them. It is a story of never giving up. It is a story of daring to dream. And it’s a birthday story I’ll never forget.